The One that Got Away
by wrenegade
Summary: Ana and Christian met when he was first trained as a Dom. They played once, but she ended up choosing another Dom, thinking CG was too good to be true. Years later, Ana left the lifestyle after a very bad experience and runs into Christian again; this time, everything's different, including her name. Christian always considered her the one that got away.
1. Chapter 1

Ana and CG met when he was first trained as a Dom. They played once, but she ended up choosing another Dom, thinking CG was too good to be true. Years later, Ana left the lifestyle after a bad experience and runs into Christian again; this time, everything's different, including her name. Christian always considered her the one that got away.

"Christian," My father calls out. "Come meet my new assistant." I stifle an eye-roll. I am here on business, not to meet all of his employees. I follow along obediently, wanting to get this introduction over with so he and I can get to our meeting. "Christian, this is Rose McAllen," he says. The name doesn't sound familiar, but her face certainly is.

I look behind the desk at the brunette goddess seated there. She looks up at me moments later and we exchange gasps of recognition. "Oh, have you met?" my father asks.

"Um, no," she replies quickly. "I think I've seen him on a magazine cover or something." She's a good liar. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Grey." She holds her hand out to me, a friendly professional smile on her face. I take her hand and instantly electricity shoots up my body. Through my fingers and all the way down to my toes.

It's her. Anastasia Steele. The one that got away. The one woman that I've compared all other subs to ever since we met. She and I only played once, and it was in the training club. It was the most intense play session I'd ever had; I've never forgotten her. Unsure why, she chose to contract with Dominick Monette instead of me. I wasn't given an explanation, nor did I was for one. But I was always curious as to why not me. And why is she using a pseudonym now?

"Likewise, Miss McAllen," I say, coming out of my memory. "Dad, shall we?" I add, needing to get away before I give anything else away.

"Oh, please call me Rose," she replies. And have a lovely day!" She tries to release her hand from mine, but I'm still gripping it, not wanting to end the flow of energy between us. "Unless of course, I'm needed in the meeting," she adds, confused.

"Son, you can let go of her hand now," my Dad states. I look down and realize I've got her in a death grip. I release her hand, apologizing and scurry off to the conference room. Once the door is closed, my father turns to me. "Want to tell me how you know her?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at me. "I believed her until I saw the look in your eyes."

"Um, we met at a party once years ago," I say. Not a lie. "And I asked her out." Not a _complete_ lie. "And so did some other guy, and she ended up with him." _Still_ not a complete lie. "I haven't seen her since, so it was a bit of a shock." Total truth.

"Oh I see, well is her being here going to be a problem?" he asks.

"No, not at all. Like I said, it was just a surprise. A pleasant one at that, but just a surprise." I have to know if she was still with Dominick. She isn't wearing a collar, but perhaps he allows her to take it off during her work day. I know he's the type to collar his subs and he's a 24/7 Dom type man, where as I reserved my Dom time for only the weekends. But why would she need to work if she's his full-time sub? Perhaps she ended the contract with him. It's been years, she could have moved on several times since. For some reason she's changed her name. Unless Anastasia Steele was a fake name. She never agreed to contract with me, so a thorough background check was never performed.

The other attendees of the meeting begin to file in and someone begins talking, but I'm not paying attention. My mind is fixed on the electricity I can still feel in my hand and on a pair of ice blue eyes that pierced right through me the moment I laid eyes on her six years ago, and again today. "Christian, what do you think?" someone asks me.

"I'm sorry?" I replied. Everyone looks at me as if I've sprouted a third eye. "I apologize, I'm a bit distracted today," I say, which doesn't change everyone's expression. I'm never distracted. "Could you repeat the question?"

"I was asking if you think that this merger will benefit all parties involved," Mr. Knops says. "I don't want my employees out on their asses, nor without the benefits they currently have."

"No one will be fired nor laid off," I explain. "My way of handling this type of business isn't to acquire a company and tear it to pieces. I acquire a company and help it do better. If you'll look at my track record, you'll see that of the last ten companies I've taken over, less than a dozen people have been laid off, some firings have happened, but not due to the merger, simply due to their inability to perform their jobs to the standards implemented. Furthermore, you'll see that all of the companies have seen at least a 70% growth in profits, efficiency, and overall performance since attaching GEH to their names."

"Understood," Mr. Knops says, complacent.

"If there's nothing else, can we continue with this merger?" my father asks. Everyone nods, the papers are signed, hands shaken and congratulations given. I nod to everyone, give them a professional but tight-lipped smile and make my way out of the conference room and back to Anastasia's, er Rose's desk.

When I get back to the main room, she is not at her desk. Curious, I approach the desk and see a "back in fifteen minutes" sign resting on her keyboard. She must be on break. Realizing it would seem odd to see me loitering near an empty desk, I leave my business card with a note on it and head back to Grey House.

Once I'm back in my office, I close my eyes and fill my mind with images of her. The past six years have done nothing but enhance her beauty. I know she was rather young when we met, only eighteen or nineteen, so now she's twenty-four or twenty-five.

Her body has caught up to her maturity, filling out in certain places, tightening in others. Gone is the soft curve of her jaw instead it's chiseled, coming to a point at her chin, yet the skin still looks baby soft. Her breasts are fuller, naturally so, her curves more pronounced. She's taken good care of herself over the years, either by the requirements of her Dom or on her own.

She was seated throughout our interaction, so I can't be sure, but it appeared as though she's grown taller, at least two inches since I last saw her. Her hair is longer and even more luxurious and rich than before. Her face is aged to perfection, showing her years of experience and wisdom. I can't think of a more perfect specimen of the female form.

I wonder how long it will be before she sees my note and if she'll actually call me. I seemed to be affecting her similarly to how she affected me, but it could also have been my own imagination. And if she was still with Dominick or another Dom, perhaps she wasn't interested in speaking with me, or even further, her Dom wouldn't allow her to.

I think back to the time she and I played, remembering it as if it were yesterday. To this day, I can't think of why she didn't pick me. Unless Dominick made her come harder or she found him more attractive. If you like the brutish overly muscled types, that is.

_She's tied up to a cross in the exhibition room, eyes down, waiting for my next command. "Look at me," I command. Instantly, her head snaps up, her eyes filled with lust. "What's your color?" I ask._

_"Green, Sir," she replies, indicating she's ready for me to continue._

_"Good girl," I say as I caress her body with the falls of the flogger in my hand. I flick it against her nipples, listening to her cry out in ecstasy. "Hush now," I admonish, making one lick a little more forceful. She whimpers in response but silences herself by sinking her teeth into her bottom lip._

_Dear god that lip. I want to bite that lip. I step towards her and pull her lip from in between her teeth with my thumb. I then lean in and take her bottom lip between my own teeth and bite hard. "Do you like that, Kitten?" I ask. "You may answer."_

_"Yes Sir," she replies. "Very much so, sir."_

_"You like to be bitten?" I ask._

_"Yes Sir, but not to break the skin, please."_

_"Of course not, Kitten," I promise. I take her yes as permission to bite her wherever I choose. I start with biting her chin lightly then moving across her jaw with light nips until I reach her neck where I start to bite harder. At the junction of her neck and shoulder, I sink my teeth hard into her skin, leaving behind an impression of my teeth. "Is that too hard, kitten?" I ask._

_"No Sir, it's perfect," she replies, making me smile. I continue my assault on her body with my lips and teeth, leaving no inch of flesh unaffected by my touch. She's panting heavily, her arousal dripping out of her and onto the hardwood floor below. Once I reach her sex, I inhale deeply, taking in her sweet aroma. She smells divine._

_This is the last bit of flesh I have to taste, and I want to savor it. I lean in and lick her slit lightly. Dear god, it's the sweetest nectar I've ever tasted. Without hesitation, I thrust my face into her, lapping up every bit of juice she has to offer. Then I focus my attention on her sensitive nub. _

_"What's your color, Kitten?" I ask, pulling away from her minutely._

_"Very green, Sir," she says, breathless. I smile against her thigh, nipping it harshly. I spare a glance behind us and can see we've amassed an audience. I decide that I don't want anyone seeing this woman come apart under my ministrations. _

_I take her down from the cross and carry her to a private room where I instead restrain her on the four-poster bed provided. "Are you still green?" I ask as I pepper her body in kisses. She was so perfect, I couldn't help but worship her body._

_"Yes, Sir," she replies._

_"I'm going to fuck you now," I say in my harsh Dom voice. She nods enthusiastically, but doesn't speak, given that I didn't ask her a question. I reach for a condom in my back pocket and slide my jeans down my legs. I look forward to our contract and the ability to discard the latex nuisances._

_I bury my face in her sex again, biting her sensitive nub and thrusting my tongue inside her. Soon she is writhing on the bed, close to coming. I bring her to the brink of her release and stop. She sighs in frustration but then I plunge myself into her, eliciting a scream of ecstasy._

_I spank her thigh hard, admonishing her for making noise. She immediately quiets, whimpering noiselessly, screwing her eyes shut. "Look at me," I order. Her eyes fly open and bore into mine. She's looking into my soul, seeing much more than I ever want to share. _

_I feel her come around me three times before my release hits me, I thrust into her wildly several times, finally calming and collapsing on top of her. "Yes indeed, miss Steele. I think we'll get along just fine. Do you agree?" I ask._

_"Yes, Sir," she replies, though I feel as though she's keeping something back. I don't press the issue. _

If I'd known then that it would have been the last time I ever saw her, I'd have pressed for more information. It was clear that something during our session made her lose interest in me, though I couldn't put my finger on it. She came three times, I dominated her, I bit her all over, she never safe-worded me. It just didn't make sense.

Now that she's back in my life, so to speak, I have the opportunity to find out just what I did wrong. And I am looking for a new sub, so perhaps, if she's free, she'd be willing to give it another go.

Rose PoV

Shit. It's him. Christian effing Grey. One of the very few people that still know me as Anastasia Steele. He's most certainly in that conference room wondering why on earth his father introduced me as Rose McAllen instead. Jesus, if I'd known that Carrick Grey was related to Christian Grey, I never would have taken this job.

I knew it was a risk, moving back to Seattle after all this time, but since Dominick Monette left the area, I thought I would be okay. I just wanted to come home. Back to the mountains and the ocean I love so much.

Choosing Dominick over Christian was one of the biggest mistakes I'd ever made. It was just that my scene with Christian was so damned perfect that I thought it was too good to be true. I thought he'd turn out to be a one-trick pony, or completely change his demeanor once he got me under a contract. Plus he was only a couple years older than me, and Dominick was nearly thirty. I may have had a bit of a Daddy complex at the time, and wanted an older man.

Little did I know that's exactly what Dominick Monette did. Our scene was near perfect, he pushed me a little past my limits, but it was my responsibility to tell him when he did so. I didn't safeword, as I wanted to expand my limits. I subbed for him for nearly a year before it got really bad.

He consistently left me incredibly sore and covered in bruises, but I liked that. Usually. It got the point where I was black and blue from head to toe. Once or twice his whip would break my skin, too. He always took care of me, apologized for being too rough, and said he needed to reign in his strength a bit.

His punishments were harsh and frequent. While he knew he was my first contract, he expected me to be perfect. I was eighteen years old and completely a novice. He'd punish my intensely for minor slip ups such as forgetting to call him Master or taking two seconds too long to fulfill one of his commands. Hell, before my play sessions with him and Christian, I'd only slept with one other man. And that was so damned vanilla that I knew I craved more than what a normal boy could give me.

Dominick ruined me for the whole lifestyle. After ending my contract with him, I knew it would be a while before I'd engage in another contract with a Dom. Then the stalking started. He wanted me back, kept telling me he was sorry for pushing me too far. Like the nineteen year old naïve idiot I was, I believed him. The first time.

I came back and he punished me for leaving. Even though our contract stipulated I could leave whenever I wanted, he was angry about it so he chose to punish me. Hitting my face was a hard limit and he punched me several times. Blood play was also a big no-no and the fucker took a knife to my skin and carved his initials on me in several places. I still have scars from it now. He broke both my legs and bound me in his dungeon for three days. No food or water for three days. Captivity is another of my hard-limits. It was as if he was purposely breaking all my limits simply because I chose to leave him.

Finally someone heard my screams for help. I thought he'd left me there to die. His housekeeper, who normally steered clear of me came to my rescue. She knew he was into this kind of sex, but even she knew he'd gone too far this time. She untied the ropes, and helped me out of the house and into an ambulance that she called.

I was so afraid of him that I didn't want to even press charges, despite the fact that he nearly killed me. I just knew that if I spoke a word of it to the police that he would come after me. But because the police knew I was in his home and it was his initials all over me, they were required to press charges. There were laws regarding domestic violence that mandated it.

I told them it was consensual. That I asked to be marked by him. I even went into a depth explanation of the BDSM community and tried to tell them that I wanted everything he gave me. Even the broken legs. They might have bought it except for that part. Who in their right mind would ever ask for their legs to be broken? Dominick being as powerful as he was and with the amazing lawyers he had, got off with minimal jail time and only a fine.

But I knew better. He'd come after me. He'd blame me for there being an arrest, a charge, and a conviction on his record, and he'd most certainly kill me this time. I told the police this and they placed me under the witness protection program. My name was changed, I moved out of the state, changed completely everything about me and even cut out my family and friends. Anastasia Rose Steele was declared dead, and Rose Marie McAllen took her place.

It took me three years before I felt safe enough to start dating. And I never ever considered any kind of play. When a boyfriend asked if I liked being tied up, spanked, or even bitten lightly, my immediate response was always a "hell no!"

Now Christian Grey is back in my life, in some form, and I just know with this business card he left on my desk that he wants to engage in a contract with me. I haven't turned the card over yet, though I can tell he's written on the back of it. On the front is a photo of his building, his name as CEO of Grey Enterprise Holdings, his email address, office phone, and he's hand written his cell phone number on it. So he doesn't give everyone his cell number. That holds some promise right?

As I turn the card over, I cringe in anticipation of the words.

"What happened to Anastasia Steele?" he wrote. Oh shit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Holy effing Kink on a stick, you guys! 50+ reviews on the first chapter, alone, including all the wonderful praise on facebook. That's amazing. Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews! They mean the world to me, and fuel my fire to continue writing. I'll try to respond to as many reviews as I can, but I figure you all are more interested in reading more chapters than my simple thank yous, right?**

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Chapter 2

Rose PoV

I knew he'd remember me. Of course he does. That's just my luck. But does he have a clue about what Dominick did? If so, he probably heard it from Dominick's point of view, making me out to be the villain in the whole thing, when really I was the victim.

I was glad I'd made the decision to take my last break just as their meeting was scheduled to end. The last thing I wanted was to be at my desk when he asked me what happened to Anastasia Steele. My face would pale to a ghostly white before turning fifty shades of crimson.

The question now is what am I going to do about this? Do I tell him the truth? Do I make up some other lies? He'll probably be able to see right through any ruse I try to create. Doms are good at that, and from his reputation that far precedes him, Christian Grey is a very good Dom.

I was given a taste of that six years ago, and I threw it away all on some stupid idea that he was too perfect. Hell, we'd probably still be engaged in a contract or agreement now, if I hadn't fucked that up. Maybe not though. I can see Christian being very easy to fall for, and I recall one of his hard limits was romance and relationships. He merely wanted someone to punish and fuck.

Which would have been fine by me, but I could see myself wanting more from him, and he being unable or unwilling to give it. Has that changed now? It's been six years; a lot could have changed. Maybe he left the lifestyle, too? Hell, maybe he's married. Though I recall there was not a ring on his finger, though that means little these days. A lot of people don't wear them.

If I had been introduced as Anastasia McAllen, he probably would have simply assumed that I am married, or have been. But, I had to change my first name, too, with the witness protection program, so Anastasia became ancient history.

And truth be told, I wasn't Anastasia anymore. The name seemed so foreign to me, and the person that went along with it died when Dominick Monette broke my legs and my soul. Rose McAllen is a tough bitch that doesn't back down, and doesn't take shit from anyone. Yeah, it might sound like I have multiple personality disorder, but I had to make a change after Dominick, and I chose to change drastically.

I wouldn't consider myself a Domme, as I don't engage in any kind of BDSM or Kink whatsoever now, but I'm for damn sure not a sub. If I do decide to contact Christian, he'll have to know straight away that I'm not interested in a contract with him. He's probably got a sub now, anyway.

Mr. Grey, as in Carrick, has left for the evening, and advised me to go home as well. I tell him that I have a few more emails to send out but will be on my way out shortly. It's almost five pm. I shake my head again at the notion that I got a job working for none other than Christian Grey's father. Of all the law-firms in Seattle, and of all the paralegal applicants he must have had, he picked me. Rose McAllen, whose history only goes back five years, and before that everything is shady and hard to find. I've no clue how extensive a background check he made on me, but if he tried to go back farther than that, he wouldn't have found much. Just the basic profile that the police department created when I began the program.

I decide I'll have to be fully up-front with Christian. Tell him everything. Of all the people on the planet, he'll understand what happened to me best of all. And I could really use someone in the know to talk to. I keep everything bottled up inside, no one knows what happened, and no one would understand how it affected me, except for someone like Christian. He was trained by Elena Lincoln, for god's sake. That woman is brutal.

She would come into the training club, almost daily, with a different young man in tow. Sometimes I wondered if the boys she brought in were even of legal age, but I'd always looked young for my age, so I didn't ever press the matter. Plus, you don't piss off the Bitch-Domme, unless you want to find yourself strapped to a wooden horse.

I wonder if he's still linked to her in anyway. I'd heard that he was her sub for a number of years before she trained him to be a Dom. Trying to imagine Christian Grey as a submissive is about as easy as imagining a polar bear is a penguin. And they don't even inhabit the same pole.

My attraction to the copper-haired Adonis hasn't waned at all in the past few years. That was another reason I decided to go with Dominick. He was good looking, but nothing compared to the sculpted greek god known as Christian Grey. I was lucky enough to be a petite, pale brunette, which was his type apparently. Other submissives were pawing at him, begging for even once scene, and he passed all of them up to get to me. I was his exact type, he told me.

And he was mine. Tall, slender but broad shouldered, muscles everywhere, but not in excess. I knew he had the strength to bring me to places I'd never been with sensation, but gentle enough that he wouldn't harm me. I only wish I'd taken his offer instead of thinking he was too perfect.

But perhaps, now is the time that I can make it right. I can tell him exactly why he wasn't chosen, and hopefully it'll boost his ego rather than wound it. Although, I can't help but wonder what my working for his father is going to mean. I don't want a contract with him, but I wouldn't mind spending time with him, perhaps as friends. With maybe a benefit or two if he's willing. And not only was he Carrick's son, they were in business together. This could be a conflict of interest.

Rather than waste anymore time thinking about what _might_ be, I need to just call the man and find out what _will_ be. For all I know, he won't want anything to do with me. A small part of me aches at the thought of that.

"Well, if I'm going to hell, I might as well pave the way," I say to myself as I pull my cell phone from the drawer, pick up the business card and dial the number. Taking in a deep breath, I wait the two and a half rings it takes for him to answer.

Christian PoV

I'm pacing around my office, making laps around my desk, my eyes fixed on my blackberry. Anastasia hasn't called. Will she call?

Just as I'm regretting my decision to reach out to her, the phone rings. It's not a number I recognize, so it gives me a shred of hope.

"Grey," I answer, trying to keep my tone friendly, when it's normally an impatient snap.

"Hello, Mr. Grey. This is Rose McAllen… formerly known as Anastasia Steele," she whispers.

"Why, Ms. McAllen. Thank you for calling me. I trust you read the message on the back of the card?"

"Yes, sir, I did. And I feel that I must preface this phone conversation by giving you the knowledge that I'm not currently engaged with a Dom, and nor am I looking to do so." She lifted my hopes so high when she said she wasn't in a contract, and then dashed them to the pits of hell when she said she doesn't want one.

"May I ask why?"

"Yes, but it's not a conversation that I wish to have over the phone. I'm sure you understand."

"Yes, completely. Would it be better had over dinner somewhere of your choice?" I asked. The tone in her voice tells me something made her afraid to speak about why she changed her name, and why she isn't with a Dom. I offer her the choice to pick out a restaurant so she can feel more safe.

"Yes, that would be fine. There's a restaurant that's more or less halfway between your father's practice and your building. It's called Reuben's. Are you familiar with it?"

"I am familiar, yes," I reply. "I haven't dined there, but I know where it is. Would six tonight be too soon?" I ask. It's five-thirty now. _Try to tone down the desperation, Grey. _My curiosity is getting the better of me, and I want to know the answers to all my questions as soon as fucking possible.

"No, that's perfect. I'll meet you there," she says. I'm about to ask if she would like me to pick her up but think better of it. She'll want to maintain as much control of the situation as she can. Not giving her a way to get home is taking some of that from her. Just from the tone in her voice, the shakiness of it, I can tell that this meeting is terrifying to her. I'm sure she never had a clue that I would walk into the office, and then also recognize her.

"Is this your cell phone number?" I ask. "May I save it to my contacts?"

"Yes and yes," she replies. "I'll see you in half an hour."

Her short answers have me more curious than ever. My mind is reeling to a million different conclusions as to why her name was changed. I half-decide to have Welch run a background check on both names, but then think better of it. If she wants me to know, she'll tell me. She's not my sub, and apparently isn't going to be… any time soon anyway, so I've little reason to run the check. Furthermore, my father would have performed one when he hired her, so if that had shown any red flags, I doubt she'd have been employed.

Reuben's is a five minute walk from my office, so I wait until close to six before I leave. I don't want her to think I'm that desperate. I'll show up a couple minutes late.

At precisely 6:02, I stroll into the diner and search around for her. She's secured a booth at the back of the room, secluded and quiet. Perfect. "Ms. McAllen," I greet, taking her hand and bringing it to my lips.

"Please, Mr. Grey, call me Rose," she says.

"Then call me Christian," I reply. What? I'm letting her call me by my given name? I never do that. "I'm sure you know I have many questions."

"The least of all is why I chose Dominick over you, correct?"

"Yes, that's certainly one of them."

The waitress chooses this moment to come and take our beverage orders. Anastasia… Rose, orders a coke, while I ask for ice water. "So tell me what you've been up to," I begin.

"That's a long story," she replies. "It starts the day I chose Dominick over you, and ends with me entering the witness protection program, changing my identity and leaving the lifestyle."

The waitress returns with our beverages and takes our food orders. Thankfully, Rose orders a hearty meal that makes me glad she eats well. "I'll have the grilled chicken sandwich, no mayo or tomato, please, with sweet potato fries and a side of barbecue sauce and ranch dressing, please," she says to the waitress.

"Um, I'll have the same," I add. I didn't bother to look at the menu, but that sounded as good as anything. "But with regular fries, please," I amend when I get a strange look from Rose. I look at the waitress momentarily who is making what I call goo-goo eyes at me. _It's just a face, little girl. You wouldn't like the monster underneath._

"So how did you go from being happily contracted to Dominick Monette to being in the witness protection program?" I ask. "Did you witness a murder or something?"

"Just about," she replies evasively. "But I'd rather not lead with the finale, if you don't mind. Shall I start at the beginning?"

I look around to make sure there are no prying ears nearby. Everyone is engaged in their own conversations and at least three tables away from us, enabling us to talk freely, provided we keep our voices down. "Yes, let's start with why you declined my contract and accepted his."

"Well, the honest answer is that you seemed too good to be true," she answered. Which didn't really answer my question at all, but made my eyebrows shoot up in surprise and confusion. At my confused expression, she continues. "You were gorgeous, wealthy, successful, amazing in the sack, amazing at dominating me and playing my body like a symphony, and I couldn't believe that it would last. The entire scene was as if it was out of a movie, and I just couldn't trust that it would be like that throughout our contract.

"I mean, I knew the punishments would be different of course, but when you made me come like that, I couldn't imagine doing anything to ever make you _want_ to punish me. My scene with Dominick wasn't as perfect. He pushed my limits, but I didn't safe-word, I thought he'd be better at getting me to come out of my shell, to expand my limits and give me better experience as a sub. Then perhaps after some training with him I'd have been better suited for a Dom like you."

"Yes, I remember that either he or I would have been your first contract," I added. "You'd have been my first contract, too."

"Yes, and that was another reason. You were _very_ well trained, but just as inexperienced as I was in some ways, and you were so close to my own age. I had a bit of a Daddy complex then and wanted an older man. Dominick was almost 30 when I met him. Plus, he was not new to the scene."

"So that's why?" I ask.

"It seems so silly now and of course hindsight is 20-20. If I'd known then what kind of Dom he really was, I never would have chosen him."

"Please explain," I request. I can feel the rage building up. What the fuck did Monette do to her?

"I'd rather not get into the details of it, but after a year, I ended the contract with him. He wasn't happy about that and begged me to come back, promising that he wouldn't be so hard on me and wouldn't punish me as much. Choosing him over you was the biggest mistake I ever made. Believing that he would change was the second biggest.

"What did he do to you, Rose?" I demanded.

"When I came back, he punished me for leaving. Despite our contract stating I could walk away at any point with no repercussions, he quite literally beat me within an inch of my life." Oh god, when she said she just about witnessed a murder, she was talking about her own. "It was so far beyond consent, hard limits and even common morality that it was just straight up abuse and domestic violence. I didn't want to press charges…"

"You didn't what?!" I cut her off.

"Please let me finish," she admonishes. I relax again and gave her a contrite expression. "Thank you. I didn't want to press charges because I knew how powerful he was. I knew what kind of lawyers he had, and thanks to him mandating that I not work, so I could be available to him at all times, I had no money to hire a good one." He wasn't as powerful as me, well, at least me now. Perhaps then we were about the same. But my empire had grown exponentially in the past six years, where his, I've read has been stable at best.

She continues her story. "Unfortunately, due to the nature of my injuries, the police department was mandated to press them, despite my protests and assurances that all my injuries were given to me with my consent. I lied of course. He broke _so_ many of my hard limits."

"Which ones did he break?" I ask, trying to keep my calm. The woman is near tears.

"Bruising and marking of the face, blood play, cutting, captivity, and severe injury." I nearly shatter my glass of water from squeezing it so hard. Severe injury constitutes broken bones, severe bruising, artery severing, any kind of punishment that can result in hospitalization.

"It was the severe injury that tipped the cops off that it was less than consensual. Everything else they'd likely seen or heard of before, but not that. And I guess the three-day captivity probably didn't help, either." Three days?!

I want to ask how he severely injured her, but the fact that she keeps calling it that instead of stating what he specifically did tells me that she'd rather not say. "I'm sorry," I say. "I should have fought harder for you. I should have told Dominick to shove it when he asked if he could play with you, too."

"Wait, he _asked_?"

"Well, I'd already played with you, so I had an unspoken claim on you. You could have overridden that of course, but he came to me and asked if you and I were under contract or an agreement. I told him we weren't yet, and he asked if he could have a go before you made a decision to sign the paperwork. I should have told him to fuck off." Dear god, this is all my fault!

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_**I can't guarantee that I'll post every day, as I have three other FSOG fanfics to work on, two Twilight fics, and my own original stories to work on continuously. Plus, I'm having a big gathering at my house this weekend, so I have to get ready for that as well. But don't worry... I won't leave you all hanging too long.**_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Christian PoV

"Stop that!" she yells. Our food arrives at that moment, the waitress looking sheepish as she inadvertently drops into our conversation. She quietly places the plates and tentatively asks if we need anything else. I thank her and she scurries away.

"What?"

"I know that look. We hardly know each other, but we've shared one of the most intimate things two people can share, and I know that look. You're blaming yourself for this. Knock it off." She has an authoritative tone in her voice, one that will not be denied nor ignored.

"Yes Mistress," I squeak. Holy Fucking Shit! I just called her Mistress!

"Whoa, Christian. I'm not a Domme. I have no desire to ever be a Domme. I'm not sure what caused that response, but please don't call me that." Thank fuck. She digs into her sandwich with fervor. Good, she eats heartily.

"Sorry, I'm not sure what that was," I reply.

"Me neither," she agrees. "I don't normally have outbursts like that, but the idea of this all being your fault was preposterous. And I guess it angered me a bit. Think about how Dominick was, as a person. If you'd turned him down, do you really think he'd have left it at that? You said yourself that you had an 'unspoken claim' on me. But he would have known that as a non-contracted sub, I had the power in that regard. It was still my choice until I signed a contract with you or anyone else.

"He more than likely would have ignored you and come right to me and asked. I was unaware of the unwritten rule, or whatever, so even if you had said no, I wouldn't have known that unless you told me. I still would have agreed to a scene with me, and likely still would have chosen him, so either way, the result was the same."

"Your logic is pretty infallible, I have to admit." I give her my seductive smirk that has most women on their knees ready to do whatever I ask of them. Her pupils dilate slightly, and her breathing pattern changes, but otherwise, she appears unfazed.

I … um… I take it you're still in the community?" she asks as she dips a fry in her barbecue sauce and then in her ranch. Odd combination.

"Yes, though I don't currently have a submissive," I answer. "And I must admit, I was a bit disheartened to learn that you're not looking to acquire a Dom at this time."

"I'm sorry, but Dominick ruined me for the lifestyle. I've lost any and all desire to be dominated, punished, bound, flogged, spanked, or anything related."

"I can understand that," I tell her. "I'd like to get my hands on that fucker, but some scandal in his business sent him to a non-extradition country."

"Really?" she asks, suddenly interested. "What happened?"

"I'm not entirely sure, and the tabloids I'm sure blew it way out of proportion. It seemed to me though, that he engaged one of his employees in a scene and she didn't care for it much. Therefore, she filed a sexual harassment suit against him. She had Daddy's money in her pocket to fuel her and he didn't win. His stocks plummeted once the story got out that he harassed and abused her. Some articles even claimed rape. His reputation was tarnished permanently both professionally and personally.

"He's effectively been black-listed from the community, no submissives would contract with him, and he was banned from all clubs and parties. Being completely ruined both financially and socially, he took what little he had and fled the country. That action sent a red flag to the authorities who then looked deeper into his background.

"I guess he'd paid off a number of parties, mostly women, to avoid lawsuits of various kinds. He'd blackmailed countless people, and basically formed his entire business on the blood-money he received from those endeavors. Many of his exploits were highly illegal, and once the accounting was all figured out, warrants were issued for his arrest. If he sets foot on American soil again, he'll be in prison for a good many years, I imagine."

"That has to be the most wonderfully satisfying thing I have heard in five years," she says. "I knew he'd left Seattle, but I had no idea why. I just wanted to come home so badly, I decided to risk it."

"So where did the new name come from?" I ask.

"Rose was my middle name. McAllen was my maternal grandmother's maiden name. Apparently I'm Irish."

"I see, well the name suits you very well," I compliment.

"Thank you, Christian." She smiles at me, her blue eyes sparkling. It really is a shame that she's lot looking to sub for anyone anymore.

"What does your family think of all this?" I ask. She immediately pales and looks down, sadness painting her features. Oh shit. "Or do you not have any?" I cringe, thinking I may have just offended her.

"I have family," she replied. "But they don't know anything…" she trailed off. She bit her bottom lip and it set off a reaction in me that went straight to my crotch. "Um, they think I'm dead, actually. And I'm in no hurry to rectify that."

"What?!" I shouted.

"Dominick wouldn't stop," she replied. "He came so close to finding me so many times, even after I changed my name, my appearance, and everything. I couldn't live like that. I couldn't constantly be on the run from him. So I had to fake my own death. I know my family was devastated, my dad especially, but I didn't have a choice. Dominick was watching them, too. Sending them threats that if they contacted me or gave me safe haven that he would come after them, too."

"This is insane," I say, more to myself than anything.

"I'm aware of that. It sickens me, the lengths to which I had to go to escape him. I should have just bought a gun and shot the bastard." At my expression she defends herself. "I don't condone gun use, Christian, but he ruined my life. I had to cut off everyone and everything I knew. Become a completely different person all because I tried to leave him. It terrifies me to think about what he would have done if I refused to return. I shudder to think of what he's done to other women that wanted to end their contracts. Perhaps that's what some of the blackmail and pay-offs were about."

"He probably would have blackmailed you," I tell her. "I know I keep photos of all of my submissives as an insurance policy against them exposing my preferences to the public. He probably did the same or worse."

"I'll bet you're right," she replies, narrowing her eyes to slits. "I remember on more than one occasion where I felt like I was being watched. There was probably a camera in his dungeon. More than one most likely." I nod my head in agreement.

"So, what I hear you saying is that if you had it to do all over again, you'd have picked me?"

"Absolutely," she says, grinning at me. "And I know it's been five years, but I'm just not ready to re-engage in that kind of a relationship. I don't know that I ever will."

"Are you saying you've been celibate for five years?!"

"Celibate? Hell no. Well it did take me three years, but I've not been celibate at all in the past two. Strictly vanilla sex with boyfriends. No Doms, no contracts, no scenes, nothing like that. Dominick was my first contract and it was a disaster. I'm in no hurry to ever go back to that lifestyle."

This saddens me like nothing else. "You were such a coveted submissive, still would be if Dominick hadn't ruined the lifestyle for you," I say quietly. "I have to admit, I've compared every sub I've ever had to you. Even ones I was with for many months. None of them satisfied me quite the way you did."

She has a faraway expression on her face. "It looks to me as if you're still solely interested in submissive contracts only. No relationships."

"I don't do hearts and flowers," I reply. She nods her head and frowns slightly. She returns to her sandwich and eats the remainder of it silently. Once she finishes her meal, she goes to remove her wallet form her purse. "No, no. I've got it," I tell her, touching her hand. There's that jolt of electricity again.

"Thank you," she replies quietly. "That's really too bad about the no hearts and flowers thing," she adds. "We could be really great together. I know you feel the electricity, too. We already know how compatible we are in one area, why not explore the others?" What is she saying?!

She stands up to leave, and for some reason I don't want to let her go. I gaze at her figure for a moment, she's got legs for days and dangerous curves. Her feet are wrapped in sky high stilettos. Louboutins from what I can tell. "You're right," I tell her, grasping her hand before she can walk away. I now crave that electric connection like I crave air. "I just… I don't know anything else but what I do."

"Perhaps it's time you learn then… while you're still young," she replies, purring seductively at me. It makes my pants tighten again. "And I can be an excellent teacher." She leans down and kisses my cheek, sending a scorching sensation through my face and down to my groin. She takes the business card that I wrote the note on and scribbles something on it. "Here's my address. Stop by any time. Or call me when you've figured it out. You might be surprised how fulfilling vanilla sex and a normal relationship can be. And who knows, perhaps I can be persuaded to do a little playing," she whispers in my ear and then saunters out of the diner, leaving me with a raging hard-on and a very confused expression on my face.

Rose PoV

I can tell I am having an affect on him. He's frequently readjusting himself in the chair. Trying to do it stealthily and failing miserably. He is still attracted to me, and that turns me on to no end. Alas, we don't want the same thing from each other.

He says he doesn't want a relationship, and I remember that from when he drew up the contract for me. _Christian Grey wasn't interested in romance nor emotions_. I thought at the time that perhaps he had a girlfriend already, and she wasn't able to fulfill his needs as a sub, so he contracted out for that. But it appears that he finds himself incapable of it, though he'll say to your face that he just isn't interested. That's a load of bull. He's interested, just doesn't know how.

We are so electrically aware of each other, I'm surprised a bolt of lightning hasn't shot right through the roof of the diner right in the middle of our table, being attracted to the charge between us. I hadn't planned on dinner going in this direction. I hadn't planned on still being as into him as I was when I met him six years prior. And yet, here I am practically salivating over this copper-haired Adonis.

I decide to go for broke and offer myself to him on a silver platter, more or less. Provided he can get over his hatred of relationships. I told him that I am no longer interested in pursuing anything regarding BDSM, and it's true. I don't. But I want him. Very badly.

Perhaps I could learn to be a submissive again, with time. I'm not there yet, but I shouldn't completely rule it out. Not with him, anyway. If he's patient with me and doesn't punish me, then I may be able to let him do certain things. We'll have to set up parameters, perhaps even a kind of relationship contract, if you will.

I peruse these thoughts while I catch a bus to my modest apartment in the Pike Market District. This is the first time I've lived alone ever in my life. The one year I spent at a University, I was in a dorm, then I was a live-in full time sub for Dominick, and after that I was so afraid to be alone that I lived with family, and then friends when I cut off the family, and finally with boyfriends.

My most recent boyfriend, Jack Hyde, broke up with me because he said the sex was too boring, and I wasn't exciting him anymore. I didn't get it because, I could just simply stare at his crotch and he'd be hard as a rock, and I could make him come within minutes. But, he wanted to be dominated. He even went out and bought a whip and a pleather outfit, corset and hooker boots included for me to wear for him. I told him I had no interest in that, and it was a hard limit for me. My mere mention of the phrase "hard limit" had him wondering at my history.

When I wouldn't tell him about my past, asking him to let sleeping dogs lie, he ended it with me. "You're boring in bed and you lie to me," he said. I never lied to him, not sharing your past with someone isn't a lie. It's choosing to keep certain demons to yourself. I didn't need to burden him with what happened to me.

Then I learned that Dominick Monette left the country. The police officer, Kate Kavanagh that was working my case contacted me to let me know he was on the move again. She didn't say that he fled the country to avoid getting arrested, but she mentioned that there was little chance of him returning. So I took the risk and moved back to Seattle, leaving Jack Hyde in my wake.

Finally I'm in my home, it's quiet, peaceful and serene. I love it. Living alone is the best thing ever. Except at night, when I crave to have someone's arms around me. Even Dominick would let me sleep in his bed with him. He was an excellent cuddler. It was probably the nights that made me continue with him for as long as I did. He seemed so loving and caring at that time. Complete one-eighty to how he treated me during the day.

We were at an impasse as far as if we could move forward with each other. My hope was that he would come up with some kind of compromise or that he would completely give in and date me the way I wanted. But I'll be any kind of money that he's hoping that I'll give in and sub for him.

I'm not interested in being anyone's subordinate ever again. I want to be someone's equal. Their partner. I don't need someone to take care of me, rule over me, or treat me like a child. I need someone to love me, share their life with me, offer support but not judgement, respect me, and trust me as much as I trust them.

Christian is fully capable of being all those things. He just needs to discover it inside himself. I'm more than willing to help him out of his shell, help him move beyond whatever demons he may have. I just hope he realizes it before it's too late.

Now I'm lying in my bed alone, sipping on a glass of roscato, thinking of the elusive Christian Grey. I look back with fondness on our one encounter. My imagination creates a new scene in which there is only him, me and the bed beneath us. No toys, no ropes, no whips. Just his body making mine come alive. And my body making his sing with sensation.

_His lips meet mine in a sensual kiss, tasting me, exploring me, and sending me all the love he feels for me. I kiss him back, running my fingers through his silky hair and moaning into his mouth when his hand squeezes my hip. His fingers are trailing up my side, pushing my blouse up with them. He finds my breast and roughly pushes the cup of my bra up and latches his mouth upon my peak._

"_Oh, Christian," I groan. "Your tongue is magic."_

"_You ain't seen nothin' yet," he quips. My shirt and bra are torn off and discarded somewhere in the room. He licks and kisses his way down my torso to my navel, where he dips his tongue down inside and then swirls around. God, who knew a navel could be so erotic?_

_Then he slowly slides my skirt down my hips and off my feet, taking my panties with it. I'm laying naked before him, waiting for his next move. "I want to be inside you," he whispers._

"_Then hurry up and get naked," I reply. He complies quickly and soon his bare skin is covering mine. I can feel his erection digging into my hip. "God, Christian, please. I want you so bad."_

"_And you shall have me," he says as he fills me swiftly. I cry out at the sensation, the feeling of utter fullness. He pulls back out and slides back in ever so slowly. He does it again and again, creating a tantalizing rhythm that both pleases and teases._

"_You feel amazing wrapped around my cock, Rose." I can only moan in response. He thrusts in and out of me, and I can feel every inch of him as he rocks his hips back and forth and side to side. _

A knock on my door pulls me from my daydream. Of fucking course someone would stop by! I can tell I'm extremely wet, as walking is very uncomfortable. As I reach the door, I ask who it is. "It's Christian."

"Oh boy."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Sorry this one took so long to update, folks. Real Life got in the way, then a bit of writer's block and then of course some more Real Life... such a nuisance. Oh how I wish I could just dive into my fanfiction world and reside there for all of time.**_

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Chapter 4

Christian PoV

She opens the door slightly and sticks her face in the open space. "May I come in?" I ask.

"May I inquire as to the nature of your visit first?" So formal.

"Well, I considered what you said at the restaurant, and I'd like for you to teach me," I answered.

"Teach you what?" she asks. Did she not remember telling me she was a good teacher?

"How to be in a normal relationship."

"Oh that… wow… I can't say I expected you to take me up on that offer."

"Do you wish to rescind it?" I ask. Please say no, please say no.

"No of course not, um… I guess I just figured you'd need more time to mull it over or something."

"Rose, are you blushing?" I reach up and caress her soft face. Her cheeks are pink with her blush. I gaze into her clear blue eyes and see that her pupils are dilated. "Are you… aroused?"

"I… that is… um…" she trails off. I step towards her and she opens the door a little more. I notice that her legs are crossed together as if she's trying to keep her arousal from running down her leg.

"You are, I can tell. And what, if I may, were you doing just before I arrived?"

"Nothing," she replies quickly.

"Now Rose, I don't believe that for a minute. What were you doing?"

"Just thinking," she replies, looking anywhere but at me.

"About…" I query.

"You," she answers. "I was fantasizing a bit, I suppose. My imagination got away from me and then you knocked on the door."

"Tell me… what was I doing in this fantasy of yours?"

"Vanilla," she retorted. Suddenly, vanilla sounded mighty tasty. I moved towards her again, but she stopped me by putting a hand to my chest. It halted me in my tracks. "Not tonight, Christian."

"Why not?" I ask.

"Rule one of dating… no sex on the first date," she answered. "And what we just had wasn't even considered a date. We merely met to discuss a matter and parted ways at the conclusion of the conversation. If you're truly interested in pursuing a relationship with me, you need to take me on a date. That's the first step, anyway."

"What are the next steps?"

"Slow down… I'll let you know as they come. For now, we can concentrate on going on a date. And you first need to ask if I want to go on one… you can't just tell me we're going or assume that I'm even interested. If you want to date women in a non BDSM environment, you have to ask these questions."

"An… Rose, I didn't ask you to teach me because I want to be in a relationship with some random woman. I want to be in one with you."

"Why me?" she asks. Can't she tell?

"I've always thought of you as the one that got away," I answer. Her eyes go wide at that remark. "I don't know how I would have responded if we were in a contract and you told me you wanted more. When that's happened in the past, I've ended the contract immediately and severed all ties with the women. It seems cold, but I've never been interested in more than what is outlined in each contract.

"More than likely, if you'd expressed a desire for 'more' from me back then, I'd have shot you down, cut off contact and never heard from you again. And then I would have felt empty. Now I know that the reason I've never wanted more with any of my previous subs. They were all placeholders… means to an end. After having gone through years of meaningless and emotionless relationships with them, I know now that I'm ready for a real one. With you. Only you."

"That's quite the speech, Mr. Grey," she whispers. "I've always wondered what life would have been like if I'd chosen you. It's like taking the red pill or the blue pill. How might have I fared differently if I hadn't picked Dominick?" she muses.

"You certainly wouldn't have ended up in the hospital, that's for damn sure."

"Ask me," she states. I quirk an eyebrow at her. "Ask me," she repeats.

Realization dawns on me. "Oh, Rose… would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Yes I would, that would be lovely. Where shall we go and when? Will you pick me up or shall I meet you there? What kind of dress code is it?"

"That's a lot of questions," I retort.

"Well, when you ask a woman on a date, you need to be prepared. You need to decide where you're taking her and when, and let her know without demanding it, how to dress. Are you going to a burger joint? A drive-in movie? A classy nightclub? A 4 star restaurant? A woman needs to know these things so she can best know how to prepare for the evening. If you ask a woman out without already knowing the answers, then you need to prepare for the onslaught of the previously mentioned questions. Now try again."

She closes the door in my face. It takes me a moment to realize she wants me to role-play… of sorts. I knock on the door. A few moments later, she opens it with a surprised smile on her face. "Christian! How good to see you! What brings you by?" she asks. She's acting as if the conversation we just had never happened. She's getting really into the role-play here. I like that.

"Hello Rose… I stopped by to see if you were interested in going on a date with me," I state confidently.

"That sounds great! What did you have in mind?" she asks, batting her lashes at me.

"I thought we'd go for dinner at Flagstaff Lounge and then there's dancing afterwards in the adjacent club," I suggest.

"That sounds great! When should we go? I'm free on Friday or Saturday evening, but not until after seven Saturday." Ah, she's giving me her availability, instead of allowing me to assume she's available whenever I suggest. Good move.

"Friday will be perfect. Shall I pick you up at six?"

"That's great. I can't wait!" She leans out of her doorway, plants a kiss on my cheek and then retreats into her apartment, closing the door in my face again. Is that the sign that I need to leave? Is she going to come back and tell me job well done? Or is the fact that she accepted my offer for a date the approval? I'm so confused, but after a few minutes, I step off her porch and head back to my car.

Once in the driver's seat, I notice my blackberry has gone off. I check the screen and there's a text message from Rose.

**You did well. A+ in fact. Can't wait for Friday :D -R**

I smile as I back out of her driveway and make my way home. Once I'm there, I send off a reply. **Thank you… I look forward to getting many more As. Have a good night. –C**

That had to be the most vanilla text message I'd ever sent to a woman that I wasn't related to, in my life. I wait a while but she doesn't reply. Deciding it's late enough for bed, I change into pajamas and roll into my awaiting, comfortable yet very empty bed. For the first time in my life, I wish my bed wasn't empty. I clutch one of seldom used pillows from the other side of my vast bed and clutch it to my chest.

I imagine Rose's scent permeating the fabric and grip the pillow tighter. Yes, I would have to have her in this bed, sleeping next to me. And soon.

Rose PoV

I shut the door in his face a second time, signaling that the game is done for the night. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to open the door and invite him in. But no, he needs to learn how real relationships work. He needs to understand that just because he's got a handsome face and deep pockets, that doesn't mean that every woman will want to jump into bed with him. Well, it means exactly that, shallow bitches that make up the female population, but he needs to understand that there's more to a relationship than just sex. And if he wants sex, he has to work hard to get it.

He told me that he has never wanted more out of his submissives than what was outlined in the contracts, and the moment any of them wanted more, he kicked them to the curb. It sounds cruel and heartless, but I imagine he believes himself to be just that. A ruthless business man that takes no prisoners. He needs someone like me to show him that a relationship can give so much more than an outlet for one's rage and simultaneous sexual gratification. In fact, BDSM in general isn't even about that. Clearly, it's how he chooses to interpret it and why he does what he does, but there can be so much more to life than just that.

I wait a few minutes before texting him, just to ensure that he's not still waiting for me on the other side of the door. When he replies a few minutes after that, I take it that he's at home and it is indeed time to retire for the evening. I have a full day at Mr. Grey's law-firm ahead of me and I need a good night's sleep. Especially after all the events that transpired today.

The nightmares about Dominick are gone, at least for the moment. But they're replaced with dreams about a young copper-headed boy. He looks to be about four or five years old. He's scared and lonely and covered in burns all over his chest and back. What happened to this little boy? Who could hurt something so innocent and beautiful?

I watch as the little boy sits on the ground coloring on a cardboard box with a handful of broken crayons. A man walks up behind him, lifts him to his feet by his hair and then smacks him across the face, sending him across the room and back to the floor. I reach out to him, wanting to help, but I'm rooted to my seat. Looking down, I see that I've been tied to a chair, a gag ball in my mouth. The man takes the stub of a cigarette out of his mouth and extinguishes it on the little boy's shoulder. He cries in agony, which just makes the man grin in triumph. He takes joy in inflicting pain on this poor child. I moan in anger at him and make my chair shake back and forth.

This causes the man to look at me and glare. All I can see is hatred and darkness in his eyes. He stalks towards me, grabs a fistful of hair from the top of my head and forces my head back. Pulling a knife out of his pocket, he lightly drags the blade across my face, not breaking the skin, but making me shiver with fear. "Don't hurt her!" the little boy cries, pulling on the man's arm to get him to leave me alone.

"Shut up you little shit," he yells, knocking the boy into the coffee table, sending glass everywhere, cutting the little boy's skin up badly.

It's too much, I can't take it anymore. I close my eyes and start humming to myself. Before I realize it, I'm sitting upright in my bed, rocking back and forth and humming. "God, what a horrible dream!" I can't shake the image of the little boy. His hair was the exact shade of Christian's. I shake my head to rid the images and checked the clock. 5:58am… my alarm will be going off in two minutes.

I turn the contraption off and hop out of bed. A hot shower with lots of steam is just the ticket to get rid of the jitters I'm feeling after that horrid dream. If that was a young Christian in the dream, why on earth did my brain put him in that scenario? Is that what his childhood was like? I couldn't imagine Carrick Grey treating his own son that way, so it has to be something else, right?

Once I get to work, I'm surprised by a vase of flowers situated on my desk. Roses of various shades, pinks, oranges, yellows, whites, and some multi-colored ones adorn a corner of my desk. A small card is tented next to the vase, and I recognize the handwriting right away. Christian.

_Flowers are part of budding relationships, yes? I think I saw that in a movie somewhere. Have a wonderful day. _

_PS These are the most beautiful flowers I could find, yet they don't hold a candle to the beauty you possess, both inside and out._

_I look forward to Friday,_

_Christian._

I quickly take out my cell phone to fire off a thank you.

**The flowers are beautiful. Thank you so much. They bring a lovely display of color to my desk. I've already gotten compliments from three coworkers. Am I allowed to tell your dad who they're from when he inevitably asks?**

I wait a few moments for his reply.

**Good morning, Rose. You're very welcome. And yes, you may inform my father of the flowers' origin, and that we have a date this Friday, if he presses for more information. I shall prepare myself for the inevitable phone call from my mother, as he'll surely inform her.**

As I read his reply, Mr. Grey enters the building. "What a lovely bouquet!" he notices. "From a secret admirer?" He wiggles his eyebrows in a very unappealing way. His wife must like that.

"Admirer? Yes… secret definitely not," I answer.

"Ah, so who's the lucky young man… or woman if the case may be."

"Christian Grey," I reply, winking at him.

"My… my son?" he asked. His expression tells me he's completely bamboozled by the idea of his son dating me. "What's going on with my son?"

"He asked me on a date," I reply honestly. "We're going to dinner and dancing at Flagstaff on Friday."

"Well, that's just wonderful! Have fun!" he exclaimed. "Just wait until Grace hears about this," he said quietly, probably assuming I couldn't still hear him. I check the phone and can see that his personal line is in use… he must be speaking with Grace. As soon as the light turns off, I shoot off another quick message to Christian.

**I expect your mother will be calling you in five… four… three… two…**

He doesn't reply right away, which tells me I'm probably right on the money with the timing, or he's in a meeting. I put my phone in silent mode and hide it away in my desk drawer. We're not supposed to have our personal phones out when we're working, so checking for a reply from Christian will have to wait until my lunch break.

My work keeps me busy, thankfully. I'm running around the building, making copies of case files, sending the proper documents to each lawyer, calling up clients, making appointments, and accepting the third degree from my boss regarding my "intentions for his son."

"Sir, all due respect, isn't that something that father's usually say to their daughter's potential boyfriends? Not son's about their potential girlfriends?"

"So you want to be his girlfriend?" he assumes.

"Mr. Grey, first of all, my intentions are honorable. I understand you may think less of me considering you know I lied about knowing Christian. But honestly, seeing his face after all these years scared me. I knew him briefly during a part of my life that I do not wish to dwell upon, so having that part of my past drudged up freaked me out. So I lied about having met him before. I have seen his face on magazines, so that was true."

"He said that you met at a party," he replies. A _play_ party is still a party, so I guess didn't tell a complete lie. I nod in agreement. "He then said that he asked you out, but you turned him down for some other guy." Wow, Christian is a genius. All of that is completely true, just in a completely different scenario than I'm sure Mr. Grey is thinking.

"Yes, biggest mistake I ever made," I answer truthfully. "I never should have turned down your son. And not because of what he's made for himself since, but because of the man I chose over him. That was a horrible idea."

"Oh?" he queried. I swallowed loudly. "I'm sorry, Ms. McAllen. Forgive me. My wife and daughter's gossipy nature tends to rub off on me sometimes." I giggle.

"Completely understandable," I reply. "Will you be needing anything else before I go to lunch?"

"Not at all, Rose. Go ahead." He smiles, seeing something behind me. "Looks like you might have company for your lunch."

I turn around and there in all his glory is Christian Sex-on-legs Grey. He's looking deliciously scrumptious in a navy suit with a light gray shirt and a silver tie. "Afternoon, Ms. McAllen," he greets. "Have you any plans for lunch?"

"No," I squeak.

"Great. Dad, may I steal her away for an hour?" he asks, turning to his father. I glance between them and note that I can't see any characteristics in common between the two. I'd be a hard-sell if Christian tried to tell me Carrick was his biological father.

"By all means, son," he replies, smiling at his son. "Have her back no later than one-fifteen. We've got a one-thirty meeting that I'll need her 90 words-per-minute for. Mrs. Roosevelt can be quite the talker… just like her ancestor Eleanor."

"Yes, Sir," Christian agrees. He offers me an elbow, which I take graciously and we head towards the door.

"Is there any particular reason you didn't respond to my latest messages?" he asks.

"Oh you texted me? I'm sorry. We're not allowed to use our phones at our desks once the work day starts. I was going to check my messages but then you happened to show up."

"I hadn't planned on surprising you… I asked you to lunch in one of the texts, but when you didn't respond, I felt the need to know why… in person. Is that controlling?"

"A bit," I answer. "But in this case I understand. You're still learning. I am allowed to access personal email during the day, so I'll have to give you that information so we can stay connected when my phone is hidden in my desk."

"Perfect," he agrees. "Reuben's for lunch? I enjoyed their cuisine yesterday."

"Sounds great." I smile up at him, and see him give me a full megawatt smile in return. Holy cow. No woman on earth could resist him after seeing that smile. He leans down and kisses my cheek lightly. I feel the jolt from his lips all through my body, making it come alive. Rip Van Winkle's awakening couldn't have been more sensational than that.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Christian PoV

**I expect your mother will be calling you in five… four… three… two…**

As if by magic, my phone rings just as I mentally say "one," finishing Rose's text message. And sure enough, it's my mother. "Hello mother," I answer.

"Christian! What is this I hear about you going on a date with your father's PA?" she asks. I can hear a hint of disapproval in her tone. What exactly did my father say to her?

"First of all, I knew her long before she worked for Dad. Secondly, she doesn't work for me, so there's no ethics to worry about here. And thirdly, no I'm not gay."

"I… you… wait, what?" she stammers.

"Mother, I'm perfectly aware that you, Dad, Elliot, Mia and several others have always assumed that I'm gay. I'm not offended or upset, I just never felt the need to correct your assumptions. Until now."

"She's special, isn't she? I can tell."

"Yes, Mother, she's very special. So special, in fact, that I don't think I can wait until Friday to see her again."

"Why not take her to lunch today? I'm sure your father wouldn't mind," she suggests. My mother is a genius; I tell her as much. "Yes I am, and you'd do well to remember that. Now hurry and make preparations for lunch, I want to meet this girl as soon as possible."

"Yes, mother," I reply, ending the call. Jeez, my mother hasn't even met Rose and already loves her. What is this woman doing to me?

**I can't wait until Friday to see you again. Can we do lunch today?**

I wait for a response, but even after twenty minutes there's none. Up until now, she's always been quick to reply. Of course, she could be in a meeting and not able to respond. My father's calendar is always available to me, so I check that to see if he's got any meetings at the moment. He has an appointment, but it doesn't appear to be one in which he'd need his PA's assistance. So why isn't she answering me?

**Or dinner perhaps? I wasn't sure if you already had lunch plans.**

This time I wait half an hour, and there's still no reply.

**Okay, so one of three things, you're not interested, you're busy working, or something terrible has happened to you. Please respond as soon as you can.**

Now it's nearing noon and I've not heard one word from her. Worried, and a little angry, I decide to pop into her office un-announced. When I arrive, she's having a conversation with my father. He gives me a knowing smirk before saying, "Looks like you might have company for your lunch."

She whirls around in her chair, surprised by my presence, but ogling me shamelessly nonetheless. "Afternoon, Ms. McAllen," I greet. "Have you any plans for lunch?"

"No," she whispers.

"Great. Dad, may I steal her away for an hour?" I ask, turning to my father.

"By all means, son," he replies, smiling at me. I've never seen him give me that look before. Probably because he's never seen me with a woman before. Or anyone for that matter. "Have her back no later than one-fifteen. We've got a one-thirty meeting that I'll need her 90 words-per-minute for. Mrs. Roosevelt can be quite the talker… just like her ancestor Eleanor."

"Yes, Sir," I agree. I offer Rose an elbow, which she take graciously and we head towards the door.

"Is there any particular reason you didn't respond to my latest messages?" I ask, trying to mask my still simmering anger.

"Oh you texted me? I'm sorry. We're not allowed to use our phones at our desks once the work day starts. I was going to check my messages but then you happened to show up." I'll have to talk about that to my father. I need constant access to Rose. But then, I remind myself, that I am not her Dom, and she's not my sub. Perhaps those demands simply won't fly with her.

"I hadn't planned on surprising you… I asked you to lunch in one of the texts, but when you didn't respond, I felt the need to know why… in person. Is that controlling?"

"A bit," she answers. "But in this case I understand. You're still learning. I am allowed to access personal email during the day, so I'll have to give you that information so we can stay connected when my phone is hidden in my desk."

"Perfect," I agree. "Reuben's for lunch? I enjoyed their cuisine yesterday."

"Sounds great." She grins at me, and I'm exposed to the sheer beauty of her face when happy. I'll do damn near anything to keep that expression on her face nearly all the time. I lean down and kiss her cheek, feeling a jolt of electricity travel through my lips and straight to my heart. What is this woman doing to me?

Once we arrive at the diner, we select the same booth we sat in the day before. Again, the place is rather empty so we have the little alcove all to ourselves. A different waitress takes our order, and I can see Rose glaring at her openly. Confused, I look at the waitress to see what could make Rose so upset, and sure enough, the woman has just unbuttoned her shirt, revealing more of her rather unappealing cleavage, is biting her lip and fluttering her eyelashes. "Have you got something in your eye?" I ask.

"What? I… no…" she replies, embarrassed. "Um, what would you like, sir?" Her tone is thick with innuendo, and I'm not biting.

"I'll have the hot ham and cheese sandwich with fries," I say. "Rosie?" I add, looking at the woman across from me with sheer adoration.

"I'll have the same, actually," she answers, not bothering to make eye contact with the ridiculous server now that I've captured her gaze. "And a small chocolate shake with the fries, please."

I see the waitress hesitate out of the corner of my eye, but then she realizes she hasn't a chance with me and sulks away to put in the order. "Rosie?" she queries.

"I thought it was a fitting term of endearment. Do you not like it?" I ask.

"I like it fine. No one's ever called me that. I had one man call me Rosalita, but that's it." She's smiling at me, a full on grin, showing all of her beautifully white teeth. She's simply stunning. I try not to think about the fact that she's been with other men. Of course she has. I can't have expected her to remain celibate after leaving Monette. But then I can't shake the idea that I would have wanted her to be mine and mine alone.

"You ordered a chocolate shake as well, extra hungry today?" I ask.

"Not necessarily, but I've always had a hearty appetite. I like dipping my fries in the chocolate shake. It's a wonderful combination of sweet and savory." She licks her lips in anticipation. I want to lick those lips. "I noticed that you didn't even give the waitress the time of day, even though she was practically throwing herself at you."

"Why would I pay any attention to her?" I ask, almost affronted. "You're sitting across from me, anyone else couldn't hold a candle to you." She blushes at my words and it's the most beautiful shade of crimson. I watch as it covers her cheeks and travels down her face to her neck and disappears in the v-neck of her shirt. "Especially when you blush."

The color in her cheeks deepen and she looks away from me, suddenly shy. "Am I embarrassing you?"

"No, I'm just not used to those compliments. Usually all I hear is, 'damn girl, you sexy,' or 'hottie in the house,' and other nonsense like that. What you said not only complimented my appearance but indicated that you'd much rather look at me than anyone else."

"Hottie in the house? Who says that?" I ask. It seems ridiculous, and not the proper way to compliment a woman's beauty.

"You'd be surprised how many times I've heard exactly that, or some similar variation. A change from that norm is very, very refreshing. You get another A, Mr. Grey." I light up at her words. I enjoy the grading system she's created, especially considering I keep acing everything.

"That reminds me. What would have been an acceptable, non-controlling reaction to you not messaging me back earlier?"

"Well, generally speaking, when someone is at work, they shouldn't be disturbed. I understand that you have to remain available all day for a myriad of reasons, but the general population does not. Do you allow your employees to have their personal cell phones out on their desks during the work day? More than likely not. It probably would adversely affect productivity on a day-to-day basis. You know I work for your father, so my hours are more or less the same as his. As such, during the business day, it's common to not call or text your significant other unless you know they're on a break or if just to say hi. You don't expect a response within minutes, nor get angry or worried if you don't get one.

"As I said earlier, I was just about to check my messages when you popped up. I can only check them when I'm on breaks. I hadn't had a chance to take a break in the morning, so it had to wait until lunch time. I would have gladly met up with you here had I seen the message then," she explains.

"You may want to delete the messages then, before you read them. I got a little… impatient and a little upset," I admit, feeling sheepish for the first time in my life. I'm surprised I can even name the emotion, having never felt it before.

"Understandable. Like I said, you're still learning. I don't expect you to pull a full one-eighty and become the perfect suitor over night. Baby steps."

"I don't like baby steps. I like to be able to just do something right away and excel at it," I answer.

"Because you're stubborn, used to getting your way, and used to being in control," she replies. Well, she has me there. That's all very true. "But that's not how relationships work, Christian. There's a give and take, a learning curve. Every new relationship goes through it. I'm sure you saw that to some degree even with your contracts. When you have all your desires, expectations and rules listed in a contract, yes it gives you that control, and little ability to be surprised or caught off guard, but I'm sure there were instances in which you had to learn the intensity of which a sub could take your ministrations, or the length of time that she could handle playing with you. You had to learn her inter-workings, what it took to make her come, how far you could push her limits, etc.

"The same idea applies to relationships in general, only it's not specific to sexual activities. Some women like to be wooed and given flowers and chocolates on the regular. Thank you for that beautiful bouquet, by the way. All my colleagues are jealous. And some women expect that kind of attention, and those women are what we call 'high maintenance.' As it stands, I'm not that way. I do not expect to be wined and dined, romanced, given extravagant gifts, et cetera. Now, by the same token, I'm sure not going to turn them down, but I don't expect them."

"That's good. If there's one thing I excel at in all my relationships, it's being generous with gifts and things," I tell her. She smiles slightly.

"That'll take some getting used to, but I'm sure I'll be fine," she replies. "Again, I'll never expect it. Every gift will be a pleasant surprise. Oh, I wanted to ask if I was right about your mother calling you."

"Yes, right on the money, in fact. I was just reading your 'countdown' message when she called me."

"Called it!" she boasts. "How was that conversation?"

"Considering she up until that moment assumed I was celibate and/or gay, she was very surprised if not a little wary. She's anxious to meet you. I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to 'drop-in' on my dad's office today, just to have a look at you."

"Oh brother," she groans. "I suppose I'll have to get used to that, too. I haven't dated any one long enough to meet the parents. And I of course never met Dominick's. This is going to be new territory for me, too."

"I'm sure you'll do perfectly well." At that moment the waitress arrives with our food, and I notice Rose glaring at her, even more icily than before. I spare a glance at the woman and notice that she's opened up her shirt even further, and now I can see her tacky leopard print brazier. I glance at Rose again and can see she's about to put this girl in her place.

Rose PoV

I can't believe that ridiculous waitress and her overtly obvious button trick. Seriously? Does she have no shame? _It's obvious that he's not going to give you the time of day, put your breasts away and call it a day_. I so want to say that to her when she returns with our food and now I can openly see her leopard print bra, because she's opened her shirt so far. Christian has become uncomfortable with the whole situation, and clearly isn't sure how to diffuse it. Sure he hasn't looked at her once since she first arrived to take our orders, but that was apparently far too subtle a clue for her. Deciding to call her out on it, I address her. "Honey, you know we can see your bra, right? That's not only horribly unprofessional, it's rude, tacky, licentious and my companion and I will not stand for it. Have some respect for yourself.

"It's blatantly obvious that you're trying to hook up with this man. Who wouldn't want to, right? He's a walking Adonis. I can't blame you for wanting him. But it's also glaringly clear that he's here with _me_. When you see a man with a woman, whether or not you know they're together, you don't make eyes at him, you don't flirt, you don't even acknowledge that you even find him attractive. It's girl code one-oh-one.

"Sure, you and I don't know each other, but still, it's a commonly known respectful thing. You don't make eyes at another woman's man. It's just not done. Unless of course you want to start a cat-fight, which I can promise that you won't win." Her eyes go big as saucers. "Now if you want to save any semblance of a tip for this meal, I suggest you stuff the girls back in your shirt and change your behavior.

"Furthermore, you're at attractive woman, you don't need to throw yourself at a man for him to pay attention to you. Let them come to you. Doing what you're doing puts out a vibe that you're easy. And that'll only attract the men that are interested in one thing and one thing only. If this is your normal way of getting attention, then I'm sure you've a long string of one-night-stands and assholes in your dating history. If you want to find a respectful man like this one, that you need to be respectable."

"I… um… you said… okay. Thank you," she blubbers, running away from us, blushing fiercely. I can hear her coworkers giggling as she approaches.

"I'm surprised at how well green suits you," Christian muses. I'm confused. "You were jealous."

"Hardly," I answer, honestly. "I know that you only see me. You're in the moment with me, and you didn't even notice her enough to find her attractive or not. She was being ridiculous, and I was quite certain that if you continued to be oblivious to her attempts, she was going to drop off the check wearing only her bra and have written her phone number on the blasted receipt.

"She needed a lesson in common courtesy and that she should respect herself more than to resort to blatantly flaunting her tits at a man to get his attention. I was more than happy to provide that lesson. I am an excellent teacher, after all." I wink at him.

"Indeed you are Ms. McAllen," he agrees. We then dig into our meals. I manage to convince Christian to try a fry in the shake, to which he declares that it's the greatest thing he's ever tasted. "Next time, I'll have to use your navel as a ramekin, pour some of the shake into it and then dip my French fries in it," he suggests. I can feel my pupils dilate and my cheeks flame at his suggestion. The mental picture of that is enough to nearly send me to a much needed release.

"Make it a vanilla shake and you've got a deal," I say, trying to emphasize my distaste for much play. At Christian's expression, I clarify. "Food play could be fun I suppose, but Monette made a habit of using me as a plate, and not being very gentle about it. I wasn't kidding when I said I was turned off of all thinks Kink related."

"That really is too bad. Perhaps we can work up to that one day. I understand if you'll never be able to do the heavy stuff, but I can't begin to express how badly I would love to lick chocolate syrup off of you, or share an ice cream sundae by first placing it on your stomach." I feel myself get warm at his words again. If anyone will be able to get me to come around about Kink again, it'll be this copper-haired god.

We finish our meal, and he walks me back to the firm. Once I'm at my desk, he leans down, kisses my cheek chastely and bids me farewell. I give him my personal email address so he can stay in contact with me throughout the day. "I still may not be able to reply right away if I'm busy or in a meeting, but I'll at least see that you've emailed me and will answer as soon as I can."

"That's all I can ask," he assures me. Another kiss on my cheek and he's on his way. God that man has a delicious derriere. I never was an ass-woman, but that man has a _luscious_ everything. I look forward to the date that marks the naked-time territory. Fond memories of our play session assure me that even vanilla with him will be other-worldly.

Deciding that dwelling on those images will not get me through my day, I throw myself into the work that has since piled up on my desk. By six o-clock, I'm done with work and about to head out. "You must be Rose," I hear an unfamiliar voice call out to me. Looking up I see a middle aged woman eyeing me with a bright smile. She seems kind, happy, and very compassionate.

"I'm Dr. Trevelyan… Grace Trevelyan Grey, Christian's mother," she introduces.

Oh my.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Christian PoV

**From: Rose McAllen**

**To: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Leopard Print Lunch**

On the subject of that waitress, what did you think of her brazier? From a fashion standpoint. I'm not a fan of leopard print myself, but I'm curious as to your opinion.

Sincerely

Rose

Roses are red, not green

I fire off my reply instantaneously.

**From: Christian Grey**

**To: Rose McAllen**

**Subject: Roses are all green before they bloom**

Leopard print as a rule is tacky. But it can be done in a classy, sexy way, if done right. I've no doubt that you, Ms. McAllen know how to do it right. (Innuendo intended)

Always,

Christian

A few minutes later, she emails again.

**From: Rose McAllen**

**To: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Green Leopard print bikini it is then**

Also, as part of your Dating 101 training, let it be known that innuendos should be reserved until after the parties have already engaged in the suggested activities.

Currently,

Rose – soon to be wilted, brown and crispy – McAllen

So my lessons continue, as do my mistakes. Well, you win some, you lose some. Though I'm not accustomed to losing, ever, I realize that I am going to have to deal with making mistakes while treading this treacherous trail of dating.

I find myself chuckling at her reply. She certainly has a way with words, using my own jokes against me time and again.

**From: Christian Grey**

**To: Rose McAllen**

**Subject: perhaps wilted, brown, crispy, but still very attractive**

That is my way of apologizing for the seemly untimely innuendo while simultaneously suggesting that you will always be attractive to me, even when you're 'wilted, brown and crispy," your words not mine. I'd just like to state that for the record.

Christian

I'm called away to a meeting for the rest of the day, but do return to my computer with a message from Rose stating that she would soon be done with work for the evening and would call me when she arrived at home. Good. I'll hold her to that.

"Christian, I called to warn you about something," my father says as I answer the phone. I was hoping it was Rose, but she likely hasn't arrived at home just yet.

"What's going on?" I ask, my concern increasing.

"It's about Rose."

"What's wrong? Where is she?" Now I'm panicking. Please tell me she hasn't met with an accident.

"Having dinner with your mother."

"What?!"

"Calm down son, Grace cornered the poor girl at the office and really gave her no option to decline. I saw the whole thing happen. She's a smart girl, and she's a wonderful girl. You really have nothing to worry about. I just called to warn you as I know your mother, and I know she'll be calling you the moment the two part ways. Or perhaps Rose will. I'm not sure who'll beat whom to the punch."

"I see, well, thank you for letting me know, Dad. I'll go sit in a corner and worry for the next hour. You don't think they'll be longer than an hour, do you?"

"Well, you know how your mother loves to talk," Dad replies. Oh lord it'll be next century before either of them call me. "And your sister may have caught wind of the news so be on the lookout for an ambush from her as well."

"Jeez Dad, did you send out a memo to everyone in the family or something?"

"Well, Rose is the first woman any of us have ever known you to date, so it's kind of breaking news and very interesting to everyone."

The words "breaking news" ring deep within me. It will only be a matter of time before it becomes actual breaking news and her face is plastered all over the news along with mine. Given her history, and being part of the witness protection program, I need to do what I can to ensure her identity remains hidden.

"I've gotta go, Dad. I'll speak with you another time," I say, ending the call before I can even hear his reply.

"Welch!" I bark into my phone, demanding Siri make the call to my head of security.

"Sir?" he answers a ring later.

"Rose Marie McAllen, the woman I'm dating, is in the witness protection program. If news gets out that she's with me, she could be in serious danger. Please do whatever it takes to ensure that does not ever happen. Pay off whoever you have to at the gossip rags, the newspaper, at GEH, at my Dad's firm… everywhere you can think of. Word must not get out that she is with me."

"I'm on it sir," he acquiesced and ended the call. He was a man of few words, which is one of the many things I liked about him. He got the job done, done well, and fast. I knew I could count on him to always handle things the best. I briefed Taylor on the situation and he'll up security for myself and for Rose to ensure that the Paps, if and when the news gets out that Seattle's most eligible bachelor is off the market, don't get anywhere near the object of my affections.

I head home to eat a light meal from Mrs. Jones

Two hours later, a text message pings on my phone. Looking at the screen, I see it's from Rose. I've added a picture of a red rose, the exact shade of her luscious lips to her contact page, so the photo lights up the screen with the notification.

_**Your mother is an angel sent from heaven. –R **_

**Agreed, but why do you think so? –C **

_**She ambushed me at work, introduced herself, and then gave me a hug. Apparently she's overjoyed that we're dating. –R**_

**Did she ask you a million questions? –C **

_**More like two-million. But no worries, I gave nothing away. Other than that you've little experience in the dating scene and I'm schooling you. She seemed to find amusement in that fact.**_

**Did she give any indication that she's informed my siblings about you?**

When she doesn't reply right away, I become concerned. My concerns increase when the elevator dings, signaling the arrival of someone I haven't invited. As Taylor and I near the elevator, I realize it's _three_ someones, hearing the distinct voices.

"You guys didn't even give me a chance to warn him," I hear Rose's voice complain.

"Nonsense, it's an ambush and we meant it that way," Elliot's voice declares.

"What is it with Greys and ambushes?" Rose murmurs.

"It's apparently in our blood," I answer, opening the doors that lead to the foyer. Rose's eyes light up upon seeing me. Her eyes then glaze over and her mouth drops open slightly. She's looking at me like I'm a glass of water and she's been stalking through a dry desert for days on end. After a few moments of shameless ogling, she recovers, giving me an apologetic smile. I smile back, showing her I'm not upset with the surprise. Under any other circumstances I'd be furious about unannounced visitors, but in her case, I think I'll make an exception. Besides, I can tell it wasn't exactly her idea.

"Hey, little bro! What's this I hear about you having a girlfriend?"

"For the hundredth time, I'm not his girlfriend. We've gone on a couple dates thus far… that's it!" I can tell Rose is flustered and not used to all the attention. Plus, she probably wasn't prepared to be not only kidnapped by my meddling siblings, but also brought to my penthouse.

"Well, welcome to Casa de Grey," Mia says as she loops her arm through Rose's and leads her into the main part of the apartment. "Christian doesn't have company enough, and I'm fairly certain he sleeps in his office most nights, so his house is more like a museum."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to speak to Rose a minute," I tell my siblings. "Privately," I add when Elliot tries to accompany Rose. He smirks at me but relents. Rose follows me into my study.

"Are you alright?" she asks. "I'm sorry this got sprung on you. They don't get it. And I couldn't explain anything…" I quiet her by pulling her into my arms and kissing her. She melts into my embrace, kissing me back. Oh my hell, her lips are like a drug. I slide my arm up her back, and into her hair, holding her in place. After a few moments, I release her looking into her eyes. Her pupils are dilated, her breaths coming in short pants, and she bites her lip… all telling me she loved that kiss. Good, it wasn't too soon, then.

"I'm slightly better than alright," I answer. That kiss was something else. Her lips are like warm satin and meld with mine like two pieces of a puzzle. "Would you like a tour?" I ask.

"I'd love one," she agrees.

I lead her back into the great room where Mia and Elliot are giggling quietly. Yes, my brother giggles. He'll never admit it to a woman, but it happens. "Well that was quick," Elliot teases. "Rosie, if you want to know what a real man can do… you can give me a call anytime." He winks at her. Ugh, gag me with a spoon.

Surprisingly, Rose saunters over to him, swinging her hips back and forth in a way that should be illegal, leans down as if to kiss him, but whispers, "Christian is far more than real, Elliot. He's a god. I don't downgrade to mere mortals."

Well, if that isn't a major boost to my ego, I don't know what would be. Elliot pales momentarily but recovers, giving her a sly smile. A moment later the smile falls from his face, and he goes pale again. "What's the matter, Elliot? Cat got your tongue? Christian, dear, I do think I've rendered your brother speechless."

"First time in history," I reply. "You must be a magician."

"Well, they do call me The Great Rose McAllen," she jokes, waving her hands about dramatically. This elicits a loud laugh from me, coupled with a huge smile, two things that are rarely seen from me. Elliot and Mia look at me slack-jawed and then simultaneously throw themselves at Rose, giving her what can only be described as a giant bear-hug. And now I know where that expression comes from. No wonder I don't let people touch me. The last thing I'd ever want is Elliot Grey wrapped around me like that.

Rose PoV

"Oh my god! It's true! You're real!" a tall, slender, model-esque woman states as she sprints to my side from the restaurant's entrance and pokes me in the shoulder. "Mom! I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"I only just found out hours ago, Mia. How did you find out?"

"Dad called me," the woman apparently named Mia replies. I guess she's Christian's sister.

"Uhh," I murmur.

"Oh how horrid of me, Rose McAllen, this is my daughter, Mia Grey," Grace introduces.

"It's so nice to meet you!" Mia exclaims, throwing her arms around my shoulders. I'm seated, so it's about as awkward as a hug can be, and I don't help things by reaching around and patting her back. She pulls away then sits down at one of the empty seats at the table. "So, tell me all about you! How long have you known my brother? When was your first date? Have you done the deed yet?"

"Mia!" Grace warns.

"It's perfectly alright, Dr. Trevelyan," I reply. "I'm happy to answer _some_ of Mia's questions."

"I'm a paralegal at your father's firm, his assistant actually. That's how Christian I got reacquainted the other day. I had met him at a party, years ago. I ended up going out with someone else that I met at the party, even though I was ridiculously attracted to Christian. He was the one that got away. Then I was surprised to find out that he felt the same, when I ran into him the other day." I had already told the story to Grace, so reiterating it to her daughter was getting redundant.

"Oh that's so sweet! It's like fate!"

I hear Grace's pager go off. She checks it and tells us that she must return to the hospital. One of her kids needs her. She gives her apologies, pays the bill and scurries out of the restaurant. "Let's go for a drink!" Mia suggests.

"Are you 21?" I ask; she looks rather young.

"Twenty-two, believe it or not," she replies, rolling her eyes. "Come on, we'll call my brother Elliot, and we can tell you all about Christian."

Oh dear, I could just smell the disaster brewing.

Sure enough, disaster is about to ensue. Elliot and Mia told me how much their brother hates surprises, yet here we are, riding the elevator up to his penthouse apartment at the luxurious Escala. The building itself is a work of art; I can't even imagine what the inside will be like.

The elevator door opens and we enter into a foyer like area. I scold them for not even warning him about our impending arrival, and then there he is. In all his delicious glory. He's taken off the sport coat, unbuttoned his collar and the first couple buttons, removed the tie, removed the cufflinks, and pushed his sleeves up to his elbow. Holy forearms, Batman! I could just see myself raking my nails along the flesh of his arms. Yum.

Forget the suit; a man in a button down shirt with a few buttons undone and the sleeves pushed above the forearms is clearly the sexiest thing ever. Holy mother of god. He looks like he just stepped off a GQ photo shoot. The JBF hair should be illegal. Good god.

And then he kisses me. Dear god that kiss was magical. All I want to do is drag him back into that study and have my way with him, but no. Mia and Elliot have to ruin everything. Granted, coming here was their idea, so I wouldn't have even had that kiss if it weren't for their meddling, but still. I'd rather be here with him alone that with the gossip twins in tow.

Christian leads me on a tour, showing me all the glorious nooks and crannies of his house. I notice that he opened every single door of the place, except for one. And I know why. It's his dungeon. Or playroom. Or whatever he chooses to call it. Given that I've sworn off kink, he's reluctant to show it to me. Truth be told, I wouldn't mind seeing it. Granted, I don't want to interact with any of the implements. But if I'm going to train him in all things vanilla, it might help to see what he's into otherwise.

Mrs. Jones has got to be the sweetest woman on the planet. Right up there with Grace Trevelyan-Grey herself. Upon a minute's notice, she is at the ready with plates of hors d'oeuvres, beverages, and is busy making a gourmet dessert tray for us to enjoy. We eat tiny crackers with fancy cheeses and meats on them, bruschetta, chicken satay, and caprese salad while chatting about unimportant topics.

Before dessert can be served, Mia and Elliot very conspicuously make apologies and leave the penthouse, leaving me alone with Mr. Dominant himself. Fantastic. If my libido wasn't already on high-alert, this wouldn't be a problem, but one look from Sir Smolders-a-lot, and I'll be a puddle in the middle of the foyer.

"It looks like we're alone," he says, pointing out the obvious.

"Yes, indeed," I reply, reaching out for my glass of wine to hide behind it.

"I know we're supposed to be following an unwritten set of rules, but I simply must express how much I want to ravish you right now." Oh my. "So I must suggest that you either allow me to do just that, or allow Taylor to escort you home so I don't."

"Home… yes, I think I'll go home," I splutter.

He looks a little crestfallen. "Very well, I'll walk you to the door." He calls out to Taylor, giving him instructions to get me home and make sure my car makes its way there too. I'd forgotten that it was still at the firm. Christian thinks of everything.

While Taylor is busy prepping our departure, which seems to have a lot more involved than it should, Christian and I share a steamy kiss in the elevator entrance. The elevator dings and opens to reveal Taylor waiting for me. "I guess I should go," I say. Christian's face falls again. I reach up, lift his chin and look into his eyes. "For the record, I want exactly what you want. But I must follow the rules." I lean in and kiss his cheek before stepping backwards into the elevator. As it closes I blow him a kiss which makes his face light up like a kid at Christmas.

Back at my apartment, I flop into my overstuffed chair and let out a deep breath. What a day. First I dealt with Christian's ambush regarding my lack of responding within a timeframe he deemed acceptable. Then his mother's ambush to take me to dinner and ask me about my apparent relationship with her celibate and/or gay son. And finally, his siblings drag me on their own ambush to grill their brother about me. Good lord, it seemed like Carrick was the only Grey that doesn't act this way. So where the hell did the rest of them get it from? It must be a Trevelyan trait.

I shoot off a quick text to Christian, letting him know that Taylor was very professional and that I made it home safely.

**Good, I hope you're not opposed to having a security detail. Because as of 8am tomorrow morning, you will have round the clock watch.**

What?! What in the flying fuck?

Rather than pounding my furious reply, I dial his number.

"What in the ever loving hell are you talking about?" I say when he answers the phone. "I do not need security detail 24-7."

"If you're going to date me, yes you do," he replies, his voice soft. "Given your… situation, you need to be kept safe at all times. I know this. And dating me already puts you in the public eye far more than you're used to, and I'm sorry for that. I have my staff doing everything they can to ensure that your name and face stay out of the papers, off the news, and far away from the gossip mags, but I can't fend them off forever, and I can't make any guarantees that you'll remain anonymous. Unless of course you want to wear a paper bag over your head whenever you venture outside."

He speaks so fast, I have to take a moment to process all the words he said. I realize he's making sense. Christian Grey is by-far the most eligible bachelor in all of Washington, if not all of the west-coast. And it's imperative that my face remain anonymous. "Perhaps I should invest in a pair of gigantic sunglasses," I suggest. "And wear frumpy clothes and turtlenecks that I can use to cover my nose and mouth."

"I wouldn't go that far, but I see you understand my point," he replies.

"Yes I do, and while I don't like it, I understand the necessity. I just wish you had informed me in a different way. I mean hell, I was just at your house, you could have told me then."

"Well, my mind was elsewhere from the moment you walked in to the moment you abandoned me in the foyer," he sulks.

"Be that as it may, from now on, please run these kinds of things by me before you do them. Just so I can have some time to mentally prepare or offer an alternate solution if what you're proposing is unacceptable."

"Unacceptable?"

"Yes, most women would find the idea of round-the-clock detail abhorrent, Christian. In my case, I get it, and I'm okay with it, but you must discuss these things with your partners. You can't make unilateral decisions based on what you think is right. You have to come to a conclusion with your partner that you both can agree on. Understood?"

"Yes, that's understood. I have a small request, though." I urge him to continue. "Can you stop referring to yourself as my partner? You can just say you and me, rather than creating some arbitrary 3rd person that will never exist. Rose, I wouldn't go through this dating one-oh-one with anyone else. You're the one I want. And in order to have you, I have to go through this. If you were anyone else, I wouldn't have said hell no without hesitation. You're all I'll ever want."

Oh my.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Christian PoV

"You're all I'll ever want," I tell her. I hear a tiny gasp on the other end of the call. Well, since we're declaring our emotions. "And I know I agreed to this course of education in regards to dating you, but I fear if I don't claim you as mine then some other guy will try to stake a claim and you'll leave me for him."

"I wouldn't do that," she replies.

"You did once before."

"Yes, I did. And I've also told you that it was the biggest mistake of my life. Not only because of what happened to me but because I missed out on the greatest guy I've ever met. Perhaps you weren't the man you are today back then, but still. I guess what I'm trying to say is Ditto."

"Ditto?"

"You're all I'll ever want, too, Christian."

Now my gasp is audible. "So where does that put us?" I ask.

"I think it puts us at asking each other if we're going to be exclusive. I mean I haven't seen anyone else, but to ensure that neither of us will."

"I've always been monogamous in relationships," I tell her. "I'm not about to change that now."

"Oh, okay… Well that's good then, me too."

"So are we still on for Flagstaff's on Friday?" I ask.

"Yes, absolutely. I wouldn't miss it for the world." Oh thank god. I've lost all confidence when it comes to trying to romance this woman. It's true that I've no clue how to actually date a woman. All I've ever done is told a sub what was going to happen and then punish her if she takes too long to respond or do what I say.

This is a whole different ball game. I'm looking to her for guidance, waiting for her approval and her permission. It's like I've taken a one-eighty in life. Flynn will be pleased and very surprised with this news. With that, I decide to call him.

"Christian! It's been a few days since I've heard from you. How are you?" he asked.

"I'm… well interesting, John. I've met a woman, well, re-met a woman."

"Re-met?"

"Yes, she would have been my very first sub contract if she hadn't decided to go with a different Dom. She's back in town now, working for my father, and we're… dating."

"Wait a second, did you just use the word _dating_? Christian Grey is _dating_ someone?"

"Yes, I am," I reply.

"I simply must know how this came about. Would you like to set up a session?" he asks. It sounds more like he wants to gossip with me than actually help me. We'll have to see about that. I don't pay him to simply shoot the breeze. In fact, I don't shoot the breeze. Not with any one. Ever.

"Yes, would later today work?"

"I'll see you at six," he confirmed. Six pm was my usual session time, so he knew me well.

Six o'clock arrives and I am ushered into his office. "Good to see you," he says, standing up to shake my hand. "So what's this about dating? And who is this lovely young woman?"

I tell him the story of how I initially met Rose, leaving out her original name, and that she chose a different Dom over me. Then I more or less forgot about her but was subconsciously comparing all my subsequent submissives to her. None of them were ever as good. Then how I ran into her at my father's firm and we got reacquainted.

"And now you're dating," he states.

"So to speak," I reply. "She's putting me through a dating boot camp of sorts. Due to a rather traumatic experience, she's no longer a member of the BDSM community. She told me she isn't currently engaged with a Dom, but also isn't looking to do so. She told me her story, and I can totally understand why nearly anything Kink would be a complete turnoff for her. But I realized that I wanted her, not just her body, but her mind, and soul. So I agreed to let her teach me how to be a boyfriend, I guess."

"You pay me too much," he jokes. I roll my eyes at him. "Seriously. You've been a patient of mine for five years now, Christian. And I've been trying to tell you all this time that the contracts, the punishments, and the kinky sex aren't what you need to grow. And all it took was this young woman to completely set your mind on a new path. I've got to meet her. Surely she's a witch or a sorceress of some kind." I have to laugh at that remark.

"She's very bewitching; that's certainly true."

"You haven't gotten down to the reason you called for this session though, Christian. Was it merely to tell me about your breakthrough?"

"You know that's not the only reason," I reply, rolling my eyes.

"Yes, you're right. I can tell that there's something bothering you. What is it?"

"I'm so used to being in control. In all things. You know that. This woman appears in my life, turns it on its head, and my instincts are completely backwards to how she tells me I should be reacting."

"Can you give me an example?"

"The other day, I texted and called her several times and got no response. My immediate reaction was to show up at her office and demand to know why she was ignoring my calls. She had a perfectly good reason; she isn't allowed to have her cell phone out during working hours. Just on breaks. And she told me that my behavior was unacceptable."

"She's right," Flynn states. "I imagine you wanted to punish her for not being readily available to you. And even though you haven't established any kind of parameters of a relationship with her, you treated her like you would any of your subs. Your behavior and flash-reactions are so ingrained in your psyche that it'll take time and a lot of practice for you to not react as the Dom but as Christian."

"And now that I've been scolded and schooled, I never know how to react with anything. I mean I know what my initial reaction is and that's almost always rage. I either want to punish her or fuck her brains out. Neither of which I've done, mind you. In fact, just yesterday, she and my siblings ambushed me at my penthouse. No warning, no calls, nothing. Granted, it wasn't her fault, so I was hardly angry with her. But at first, the idea of having unannounced company had me boiling mad. As soon as I heard her voice wafting from the elevator lobby, my anger immediately faded. I found myself looking around to make sure the place was in order and that I looked presentable."

"That is quite the change in demeanor," Flynn comments. "And how is this young woman taking all this. May I know her name?"

"Rose," I answer. "She's been amazing. Patient, kind, informative, educational, and above all I know she wants me just as much as I want her. She's made no secret of that fact. We have a date on Friday, and then I plan to bring her back to my place."

"But not to the playroom, correct?" he queries.

"Definitely not there," I confirm. "I am planning to have the whole room taken down, transformed back into simply a guest bedroom." That isn't a complete lie. It's a plan now. It wasn't until the moment I said the words.

"Make sure you make her feel comfortable and safe. If whatever trauma happened to her made her completely turned off of the lifestyle, then she's going to need those assurances frequently."

"Of course," I agree.

"I'm afraid our time is up," Flynn remarks, looking at his watch. "I'll leave it up to you to schedule another session, if you need. But it looks like, with the way things are going with this young lady, that you won't be needing me much longer. Tell me, will she be your date for the Coping Together benefit next weekend?"

"I hadn't even thought that far ahead. I certainly hope so," I answer, a grin spreading across my face. I also notice that I've been smiling a lot more often than I'm used to. What a revelation.

*Rose PoV*

I feel like the President's daughter or something, these past few days. With all the extra security, being escorted everywhere I go, and having all my plans relayed to Christian and/or Taylor at all moments of the day. Down to where I go for lunch and when I take a bathroom break. I'm almost positive I overheard Sawyer refer to me as Princess Aurora, when confirming my whereabouts with Taylor the other day. I get the reference; In Sleeping Beauty, Aurora was referred to as Briar Rose by the fairy godmothers, so it's an apt code name, but still. It's like I have my own secret service detail.

The lack of privacy isn't appealing, but I get the necessity of it. Christian's very high profile. He's got haters, people after him, people wanting to black mail him or threaten him just for a pay day. He mentioned that if word gets out that I'm with him, the odds of me being kidnapped for a ransom would increase exponentially. I thought crap like that only happened in those cheesy TV crime dramas, but apparently it's a legit concern.

So I've become rather acquainted with Luke Sawyer and Belinda Prescott as of late. There's an overnight detail as well, but seeing as he or she arrives after I've gone to bed and leaves before I wake up, I haven't taken the time to learn his or her name. I just picture an individual sitting in a car outside my house relaying my snoring pattern to some interested party at Grey Enterprises.

*Flash forward to Friday*

I stand in front of my closet staring at the contents, willing something to pop out at me. I'm at a loss for what to wear. Mia Grey seems fairly fashion forward, perhaps she can assist. Checking my watch, I notice that I'm not due to be ready for another two hours. I grab my phone, thankful that Mia was so insistent to put her number in it the other day.

"Rose? Hi!" she exclaims. "What's up? Looking for a girls' night?"

"Hi Mia, ah no, I'm going out with your brother tonight. It's actually our first official date. We're going to a place called Flagstaff Lounge for dinner and dancing, and I haven't a clue what to wear."

"Say no more! What's your address? I'll be right over! With the essentials!" I give her my address and within twenty minutes, the doorbell rings. I check the peephole and am met with a pair of eyes surrounded by more sparkly fabric than I could ever hope to need.

"Ooh! I love your place! Very boho-chic," Mia states as she gazes around the space. Honestly, with all the loud patterns and bright colors in her arms, I'm surprised she can even see at all. I'd be blind. "Where's your bedroom?" I show her through and she tosses the pile of dresses onto my bed.

"First things first, dinner and dancing, eh? What size shoe do you wear?"

"Six and a half," I reply.

"Okay, so none of my shoes will work, good thing I didn't bring them. But I'm sure you've got _something_ we can work with. Your shoes are in this closet?" I nod and she heads right into my walk in closet, throwing garments out in her wake.

"Okay, Flagstaff is very in," she begins, popping her head out of the closet, holding a pair of silver strappy stilettos. "And if you're dancing, you'll want something you can move in, right? But you'll still want to show my brother a little skin without being skanky. I've no idea what his 'type' is, but I doubt it's skanky."

_Petite, pale, brunette, and willing to explore limits of pleasurable pain_. That was the description of what he was looking for anyway, back when I almost contracted with him as a sub. Something tells me that information won't help Mia, though.

"Blue is a great color on you," she states, holding up a dress next to my face. "Go try this on."

"Where did all these dresses come from?" I ask.

"My closet," she replies. "Some of them are too short to be acceptable on me, so I figure if they work for you, they're yours." I bring the dress into my en-suite and shimmy it on after shedding my bathrobe. It's a deep midnight blue dress that comes to just above my knees. Mia has a good four to five inches on me, so this would hit her mid-thigh. Yes, far too short to be acceptable on her. At least at a family affair.

I turn around to assess the look in my large gilt mirror and note that it's backless. Save for two one inch straps that come from the one shoulder and connect at the back of the waist. "Mia, this is backless," I complain.

"Yeah? Your point?"

"I um… don't do backless. Or sleeveless for that matter." My eyes zero in on the scars that read "DM" on my upper arm and shoulder blade. I'm not ready for Christian to see those yet.

"What? Why on earth not?" she demands, barging into my bedroom. She looks at me confused for a moment as my left arm as come up to cover the scars on my right. But then that puts the scars on my shoulder blade in perfect light for her to see. "Oh. Um, what are those?"

"From another life," I reply evasively. "I'm not afraid to show him; I'm just not ready to, yet."

"Okay, so sleeves and a back then," she states, backing out of the room. She returns a moment later holding a crushed velvet dress that is the same shade as the one I'm currently wearing. Without a word, she hands me the dress and slinks back to the bedroom. I slip out of the offensive backless number and slide the velvet one on. It clings to me like a second skin.

But it's long sleeved and has a back. The front is rather low-cut with a sweetheart neckline, but I don't mind that. And the skirt hits me mid-thigh, which would make it a shirt on Mia. She must wear it with leggings if she's ever worn it at all. I turn in the mirror, assessing the dress from all angles. It'll do.

"Are you decent?" Mia asks after knocking.

"Yes," I reply, curious as to why she suddenly now is respecting my privacy, when a moment before she barged right in the room without a second thought. Realization dawns on me. "It's the scars, isn't it?"

"What?" she asks, innocently.

"You barged right in the room with the last dress, and now you're knocking and asking if I'm decent. The only variable that has changes is that now you've seen the scars." I decide to go ahead and tell her about it. Well, at least a little bit; I can't risk outing her brother. "I have another set on my abdomen and my upper thigh," I begin. Pulling the skirt up to show the one on my thigh, I watch as she cringes. "I was in a rather abusive relationship a few years ago, and he did this to me."

"I'm so sorry, Rose," Mia says, her eyes tearing up. "Is the bastard in jail?"

"Sadly no, but I hear there's a warrant out for his arrest for some kind of extortion and tax fraud scandal. He's out of the country and if he ever returns, he's to be immediately arrested."

"Well, I guess that's better than roaming free wherever he pleases, but he should be behind bars for that." She points at my leg. "Does Christian even know about it?"

"He knows that I was physically harmed, yes. But he doesn't know that the Douche-tard carved his initials into my body."

"Douche-tard? Have you been hanging out with Elliot?" she teases, lightening the mood.

"No more than absolutely necessary," I joke back. "Now about my hair. What do you think? Up? Down? Straight? Curly?"

"Beach waves, and pinned to the side so it falls down one shoulder," she replies, digging in her bag for a flat iron, a box full of bobby pins and a bottle of hairspray."

"I do own hair-care products, Mia. I'm not completely helpless."

"How was I to know that?" she complained, putting her hands on her hips. "Now go sit at the vanity so I can get to work."

An hour later my hair was in soft "beach" waves down my left shoulder, with a few bobby pins to help keep it in place. My eyes were rimmed with a midnight blue shadow, and volumizing mascara. I looked hot. Really hot. Mia didn't bother blushing my cheeks, since they go red quite frequently naturally. I dab a bit of peach lip shimmer to my lips and now I'm ready to go. Mia gives me air kisses so as not to smudge her work, gathers her things and heads out the door. I notice she left the pile of dresses on my bed. Unspoken gifts, I imagine.

Moments later, my doorbell rings. I make him wait a minute or two, per tradition and then answer the door. I've donned a knee-length coat so he won't get the full look until we arrive at the restaurant. "Did I see Mia driving away from your place?" he asks after greeting me with a kiss to my hand.

"Yeah, she helped with my outfit and make up," I confess. "I haven't had time to shop for going out clothes yet, and she was a real lifesaver."

"Mia's nothing if not thorough when it comes to fashion. But you could have told me you didn't have anything to wear. I'd have had something sent over."

"That wouldn't have been necessary, Christian. And I wouldn't have worn it even if you did, and probably would have resented you for even suggesting an outfit. I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself. I understand you may have picked clothing out for your submissives, but in a normal relationship, that's not how it works. My reaction to that, though, would have been extreme due to my experience with Monette."

"Another Dom thing?"

"Big time," I confirm. "It's one thing to offer suggestions and feedback on an outfit, but don't make a unilateral decision on what I'm going to wear by sending me a garment. That's too much."

"Understood," he replies, grinning at me. "Shall we?" He offers his elbow for me to grasp and out the door we go. "You look lovely," he says, eying me appreciatively. "I can't wait to see what's under that jacket. Especially if my sister was involved."

He helps me into the back seat of his Audi SUV and follows behind me. I notice that Taylor is driving and Sawyer, my security detail has slid into the passenger seat. A glance behind me and I know that Belinda is behind us, following at a safe distance.

"Oh, you should see the first dress she picked out. Far too much skin showing," I tease. His expression darkens, sending a lightning bolt down my spine.

"I like your skin." He leans over towards me and presses a light kiss to my neck. I hadn't thought of the fact that one side of my neck is completely exposed for him. The sensation of his lips on my skin sends tingles throughout my body.

All too soon, we arrive at the restaurant. We're escorted to an exclusive table near the rear of the restaurant and have our own dedicated service staff. Bartender, server, and chef all to ourselves. Talk about the Ritz.

"The Chef will prepare anything you like," the server explains. "Within the limits of what we have available, of course, but I'm sure he'll have just about anything you could want."

"What's your name?" I ask the server. He looks incredibly nervous, and that isn't helped by the fact that Christian keeps shooting daggers at the young man.

"José, ma'am," he replies after clearing his throat.

"José, calm down. We're not going to bite you. Just treat us like you would any other customers, and if this guy gives you any hell," I tell him, pointing at Christian, "you just let me know and I'll handle it."

"Oh, yes of course, um, thank you. Uh, would you like to see the wine list?" He hands me a large one paged menu that has every kind of wine one could ever ask for on it.

"I'll probably order white meat, so I'll have a chardonnay. Can you make a recommendation, Christian? You know more about wine than I do." Christian leans over to peer at the wine list, points at one and then sits back in his chair, eyeing me curiously. "What?" I ask as José scampers away to put in the drink order.

"José?" he asks simply.

"Yes, he's our server. What about him?"

"You told him to let you know if I give him any hell. Why would I be giving him hell?"

"Because you were looking at him like you wanted to rip off his head and feed it to a pack of ravenous hyenas for merely making eye contact with me." When he doesn't respond, I continue. "Am I wrong?"

"I don't like other men looking at you," he finally says. And there we have it. He's jealous and possessive.

"Christian, you're going to have to get over that. I'm an attractive woman. There will always be men looking at me. Regardless of whether or not it's obvious I'm with you. What you would need to worry about is if I was paying any of them any mind in return. Don't fault other men for appreciating an attractive woman."

"So, what you're saying is I need to trust you?" he asks.

"Yes, that's it exactly. I mean, you of all people should know all about trust. You have to trust your subs to let you know when they're reaching their limits, right? Can't you trust me to handle the situations with other men, should they arise, without you glaring at anyone with a penis?"

"I suppose that makes sense," he grumbles

"Remember our conversation from earlier this week. You're all I want, Christian. I don't even notice other men. If they were to attempt to get my attention or hit on me, I know how to say no. I can handle that, okay?"

"Understood," he replies, with a smile.

* * *

I'm ending the chapter here, as I want to go into depth regarding their food and dinner conversation. Plus I wanted to give my readers something this week for this story.

And there may or may not be a lemon in the next chapter ;)


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